The Blog for What to Play Next

Friday, May 26, 2017

SAS- Mister Johnson (Shadowrun)

Yegor was careful to clean up after himself. With his Edit app, he
altered the access logs, removing his account ID. From there, it was a simple
matter to create a timed script to erase his logout record, which would appear
when he disconnected, erase the admin account that he had created, and then
erase itself. Steeling himself mentally, he disconnected.

The world spiraled and streaked back into place around him. It took a
second for him to remember how to focus his eyes and breathe. Subconscious body
functions tended to get screwed around when logging out. He shook his head
groggily, and saw Smith walking back his way. Sirens wailed in the distance.

“Lone Star will be here any minute,” Smith said calmly. “The target of
the hit was evidently an important Evo scientist. We’re going to appropriate
the van and take them all to Evo.”

Evo Corporation’s Pittsburgh office was in the heart of downtown, yet
their campus appeared a world apart. The corporation’s core philosophy was said
to be pushing humanity and meta-humanity forward, and their philosophy was
reflected in their architecture. The tower swooped upwards into the sky, a
slightly crescent-shaped structure that might not have appeared structurally
stable to all but the most well-trained eye.

Yegor had mixed feelings at the sight of it. He remembered a time when
he had dreamed of working at a mega-corp. That felt like a lifetime ago. In a
way, it was – goblinization really was like being reborn. Yeah, reborn over the course of three days of agony. Like a
slow-burning phoenix, only without the awesome. All the while knowing that
you’ve got a lifetime of bigotry and hatred to look forward to. Fuck.

Despite the progressive appearance of the company headquarters, Yegor
noted that they still had a wall around it. An ivory colored, ornately
decorated wall, but still a wall. The guard station also presented a façade of
pleasantry, but there was no prettying up the MP5s that the guards were
carrying, nor the stoic expressions on the faces of the patrols walking the
grounds. A couple of the guards were trolls. Not a huge surprise – guard duty
was one role that trolls could occasionally break into with megas, but Yegor
still nodded approvingly.

The beat-up brown van rolled up to the checkpoint. Yegor cringed a
little at the thought of the scene through the gate guard’s eyes – a shot-up
van rolls up, driven by an obvious shadowrunner, the cabin filled with
bloodstains, an Amerindian riding shotgun,
and a muscle-bound orc babysitting a panicked family and a wounded man
in the back… Shit, it sounds like the
start of a terrible joke.

The guards reacted as Yegor expected they would. Call for backup. Guns
drawn. “Show me your hands!” Circling the van. Two of them even took aim at
Yegor. Yegor drummed his fingers on the wheel of the Mini, doing nothing to
conceal the bored expression on his face. Fucking
wage-slaves.

Once their story had checked out, they were waved through the gate
quickly. Four Doberman drones joined the party, pacing their vehicles as they
were led to a secure lot. Yegor was waved urgently into a parking spot by an
Evo security guard, who was probably around twenty but looked more like
sixteen. Probably the most excitement this kid has had in his life. Yegor
started to reach for his Mossberg, but stopped short when the kid tapped the
barrel of his MP5 twice against the glass of his window.

“No weapons allowed in the offices!” the guard hollered nervously.
Yegor’s face screwed into a grimace despite himself, and his resulting grim
visage appeared to scare the guard even more. The guard raised his submachine
gun, keeping it trained on him. His hands were steady. Point for him.

Yegor leaned back away from his gun, opened the door of the car, and
clambered out. If the kid looked a bit nervous before, his expression turned
downright comical as Yegor rose to his full height, towering over him. The
guard took three quick steps back and raised the barrel of the gun about thirty
degrees, keeping it pointed in the direction of Yegor’s chest.

Another guard approached. This one was older, an orc, his graying hair
cropped in a short buzz-cut. He held his MP5 with an easy confidence and
posture that indicated that he had used it many times before, and his
expression offered the notion that he would be perfectly happy to use it again.

“Problem?” the orc growled to the younger guard.

Yegor’s temper boiled over, and his booming voice overrode the kid’s.
“Yeah, we got a problem. We saved the ass of one of your best scientists and
delivered him right to your fuckin’ door, and we’re being treated like fuckin’
gutter trash.”

The orc eyed Yegor, his expression neutral. “If you did, Evo will take
care of you. Our boss will want a word with you and your friends.” His speech
was more articulate than Yegor had expected.

Yegor looked over at the van, which had parked only a few spots away. A
swirl of activity surrounded it. An Evo doctor and two medics were carefully
removing the injured scientist and loading him into a med-drone. Two other
people, psychologists maybe, were steering the wife and kids away from the
chaos. Eight armed guards held Smith, Joe and Lokk at gunpoint. The three men
stood at ease, Lokk with a bemused expression on his face. Yegor snorted. Heh. Check out these badasses. They ain’t
even mad.

Yegor leaned against his Mini Cooper and stewed quietly. He felt
twitchy. He hadn’t ever been in a gunfight before. He hadn’t expected it to
twist him up so much. His chest ached from the shots he had taken, although he
was sure that he wouldn’t have anything worse than an ugly bruise from them.

It didn’t take longer than two minutes for the Evo team to sweep the
wounded scientist and his family off in the direction of their company clinic.
Maybe it was even a company hospital – no way to know unless you worked there.
Yegor tapped his foot impatiently, glaring at the young, blond-haired guard.
The kid gulped loudly enough to hear.

After a couple of minutes, the orc paused and cocked his head slightly.
His nodded to himself twice, and said “Yes, sir.” Then he spoke, loudly enough
for everyone to hear. “Mr. Johnson would like to speak with you all.” He looked
over to the large group of guards and drones watching the other three men and
made a quick gesture with his gun. Then he looked at Yegor and pointed his gun
barrel in the direction of the other group. Yegor got the message, and moved to
join them.

Despite his irritation, Yegor was impressed with the precision of the
guards. They didn’t look like they would hold up to a heavy assault, but it
wouldn’t be for lack of discipline. They formed up around the group, with the
orc taking point. Yegor noticed for the first time that one of the other guards
was an elf, and another a dwarf. Interesting
bunch of troops they’ve put together here. Wonder if they’re hiring.

The group marched into the building. Yegor felt apprehension building.
He could feel those dreams of working for the mega-corps tickling the back of
his mind again. When he had goblinized, he had known those dreams were dying,
unless he wanted to work a dock or security beat. He shook his head, as if the
act might dislodge those old hopes.

The group came to a cargo elevator, where the orc waved Yegor and his
friends within. Yegor’s eyebrow twitched with surprise upon realizing that the
orc and the four Doberman drones were the only ones coming up with them. The
rest remained behind. The sandy-haired young guard looked visibly relieved to
be leaving the group. Yegor chuckled evilly at the kid’s expression. Kid still needs some work. Hope he doesn’t
get himself killed in the first corp raid that hits this place.

The elevator rose rapidly to the twenty-second floor, opening with a
gentle ping. The orc led the four men out and down a short, white-walled
corridor into a large lobby. Yegor’s eyebrows went up.

The lobby’s glass panel windows offered a spectacular overlook of the
Pittsburgh sprawl. The design of the building left Yegor with the feeling that
the office was flying. Yegor felt a touch of vertigo for a moment – he had never
been this far from the ground in his life. He turned away from the window and
towards the receptionist’s desk, and was immediately glad that he did.

The woman seated behind the desk could have stopped a train with a
come-hither look. Long, curly red hair, light tan skin, swept back pointed
ears, curves in the all right places, and a conservative green dress that
conceded slightly to sexiness with a narrow but deeply diving neckline. Her
green eyes actually seemed to glitter – Cybernetics?
Tech-contacts? Bioware? – as she appraised the group for a moment and
turned her attention to the orc. “Erickson,” she said with a small smile.
“He’ll be right with you.” The smile left her face as she turned to the rag-tag
group. “Please, take a seat.”

Yegor snorted. He hadn’t been in a business yet where there was a chair
that could accommodate him. And yet, when he turned, there was an array of
comfortable plush chairs and sofas, including a massive white recliner that was
obviously sized for trolls. You gotta be
fucking kidding me. He walked over and sprawled out on the chair, relishing
the comfort of sitting in a chair that fit for a change. His worn-out armored
jacket was probably going to make all kinds of scuffs on the furniture, but
Yegor didn’t give a shit. I have GOT to
get me one of these. Damn.

The seat had the added benefit of facing the receptionist. Yegor didn’t
even try to hide his staring. Her desk was more like a translucent table, doing
very little to obscure her as she worked. Her nimble fingers darted rapidly
across several projected AR displays. They looked like reports of some kind.
Her dress covered her knees, but not much farther. What he could see of her
slender legs was as perfect and unblemished as the rest of her. She tapped a
foot idly as she worked. She had to know she was being visually devoured, but
she didn’t give any indication that she was bothered by it.

Yegor glanced over at the others and snorted. Lokk was drooling over
the elf as hard as he was. Joe and Smith looked calm and collected, although
both of them allowed their gaze to linger on the elf several times as well. The
orc guard, Erickson, kept his eyes trained on the group, his weapon still
cradled easily.

They weren’t waiting for long. A large mahogany door behind the receptionist
swung open silently, and a man emerged. He smiled briefly at the receptionist,
who spoke a few quiet words to him that Yegor could not make out. He then
turned his attention to Erickson. The orc spoke briefly, nodded at the man’s
response, and turned his attention back to Yegor’s group as the man approached
them.

This guy’s got money, Yegor
thought grumpily. He was nattily attired
in a neatly pressed suit that looked like it cost more than Yegor’s Mini
Cooper. His long, dark hair was combed back neatly, and partially obscured his
long, pointed ears. Most of his hair was clipped in place with a polished
silver clip of the sort that was growing popular among elves, although several
strands fell forward to frame his face, lending him an air of mystery.

“Gentlemen. I am Mr. Johnson, and I represent Evo Corporation’s
inter-corporate interests. Elandra and Mr. Erickson have informed me of your
recent heroism. It appears that Evo owes you a substantial debt.” The elf’s
voice was resonant and melodious, like a blues singer. Yegor hated it. Why is it that I want to fuck every elven
woman with a pulse, but punch every elven man in the face?

Mr. Johnson produced four certified credsticks from the inner pocket of
his suit jacket, and passed one to each of the men. “We insist that you allow
us to offer you some small compensation for your intervention. And, if you are
interested, our company would like to offer you additional compensation to
investigate this incident further.”

Yegor gave the credstick a quick once-over and smoothly popped it into
the datajack in his skull. It registered as holding one thousand nuyen. Not an
insignificant amount of cash, but nowhere near worth getting shot at for. Yegor
snorted, and spoke up before any of his friends could. “That’ll barely pay for
ammo, much less pay the rent, buddy. Not interested.”

Mr. Johnson eyed Yegor for a moment, expressionless. Yegor was impressed
by his poker face. Not many people kept a straight face while within arm’s
reach of a disgruntled troll. He turned his gaze to the others. Lokk was
looking at Yegor and nodding – he knew a raw deal when he heard it. Injun Joe
had looked as though he was going to say something before Yegor jumped in, but
now he appeared content to wait for the elf’s response. Smith’s poker face was
even steadier than the elf’s. Johnson nodded.

“Point taken, Mr…?”

Yegor shrugged. “Crowbar.”

“Very well, Mr. Crowbar. It is true, you have done us a great service.”
Mr. Johnson turned toward the secretary, Elandra, and held up three fingers. In
seconds, the credstick in Yegor’s skull blanked out and re-registered with
three thousand credits. Nice trick.

“Now, to the other matter. It is obvious that someone intends a great
deal of harm to one or more of our top scientists. This is the sort of matter
that is very difficult for Evo to investigate through conventional channels,
but the four of you have proven to be very capable gentlemen.” There was the
barest pause before the word “gentlemen”. Yegor chuckled. The elf continued.